


Beyond The Sea

by merakis



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: But mostly fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, Light Angst, M/M, Non-specific time period, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Sweet, baker's apprentice!wonwoo, sailor!mingyu, the tags make it look dark but it's not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:39:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17261063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merakis/pseuds/merakis
Summary: After the death of his parents, Jeon Wonwoo, nineteen and numbed to the world, moves to a small port city to begin an apprenticeship at his aunt and uncle's bakery. In Koriko he meets a menagerie of people, among them eighteen-year-old Kim Mingyu, who has lived in this town all his life. Mingyu is brighter than the sea when the sun hits it and makes it sparkle, and Wonwoo thinks maybe the world isn't as dark as Seoul makes it out to be.





	Beyond The Sea

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a brainchild of mine inspired by Studio Ghibli's worlds, specifically Kiki's Delivery Service and Howl's Moving Castle. If you want fic updates and want to yell about Minwon with me, feel free to come scream at me on my Tumblr, which is linked at the end of the chapter. I don't bite.

Jeon Wonwoo sits on a train and gazes out at an unending expanse of blue ocean skyline. He’s got a trunk and a backpack, having decided that it was best to leave most of his things behind, out of mind.

When his parents had left Seoul, they’d been excited in their silly way, and they’d kissed Wonwoo plenty and made sure he would remember to eat. And they hadn’t returned. Their ship had been caught in a storm on their way to the place they’d been so excited to vacation at, and they’d drowned.

But Wonwoo hadn’t been upset, and he wasn’t upset now, as morose as it sounded. The news just hadn’t hit him yet. He’d felt something like concrete settle into his bones, locking up his body, and he fell silent for days, not speaking a word to anyone. He was accepting of the decision to go live in Koriko, to get out of Seoul and breathe. His aunt and uncle had sent him a telegram, offering a job and a new life. He’d taken them up on the offer almost instantly.

He isn’t even worried about Koriko. Koriko is a pleasant town a lot like the ones Wonwoo reads about in his books. It’s pleasant and picturesque, boasting a gorgeous boardwalk and beach. In town, the buildings are known to be light colored and clean, like they came from a painting. And his aunt and uncle, Kang Soyoon and Kang Hyunsik, respectively, were lovely people, from what he remembered from childhood Christmases and family gatherings. They were kind and generous, and they owned a popular bakery. Wonwoo would get along with them just fine.

A bell sounds somewhere in the train car, and Wonwoo collects his luggage when a fat man in a blue coat with silver buttons announces that the Koriko station is about a minute or so away.

After being jostled out of the train and onto the platform, Wonwoo escapes the thin crowd and stands near the ticketing stand to wait for his aunt and uncle. The air is sweet-smelling and salty. It’s lighter than the smog and sweat of Seoul. When Wonwoo breathes in, his head clears so that his mind feels nearly empty. It’s not an unpleasant feeling.

The next moment he blinks, and then he hears his name called, and when he looks to his right, his aunt Soyoon, wearing a yellow dress, and his uncle Hyunsik, in a clean white shirt, wave to him and make their way through the crown to where Wonwoo stands.

Soyoon, who has a petite figure, shiny black hair, and typical Jeon-family eyes, hugs him around the shoulders and hums a “Welcome” into his ear.

Hyunsik, a well-built man of few words, waves to Wonwoo and takes his luggage from him as a friendly gesture. Although Hyunsik doesn’t say much, he listens well, and there’s always a comforting glint in his eye.

“Hello Auntie, Uncle,” greets Wonwoo. Soyoon begins to fuss over Wonwoo, and Hyunsik exchanges a fondly exasperated look with Wonwoo.

“So tall, but not any fatter!” crows Soyoon. “You must be starving.”

“How could you tell?” jokes Wonwoo in reply.

“Woman’s intuition,” returns Soyoon, like she’s just told him the secret to world peace. In truth, Wonwoo isn’t that hungry, but the bakery bread is famously delicious, and he doesn’t want to disappoint his aunt within ten minutes of his arrival in Koriko.

All the way to the bus station, Soyoon pesters him fondly, asking Wonwoo about trivial things. Neither Soyoon or Hyunsik bring up his parents. Wonwoo appreciates that. They don’t treat him like he’s made of glass, but they also understand common human decency.

The bus ride is quiet. Wonwoo watches the people of Koriko going about their daily lives, buying meat and soap, running off to a violin lesson, walking the dog. No one seems to be in too big of a hurry, even though it’s early afternoon. When people pass each other in the street, they smile in greeting. Everyone acts like they’ve known each other for years. It’s peaceful and humanizing in a way that Seoul isn’t. In Koriko, people have time for a smile.

Soyoon elbows him in the ribs and Wonwoo realizes he’s been gazing out the window with a forlorn expression on his face for a little too long. He smiles sheepishly at her, and then the bus pulls up to their stop.

His aunt and uncle’s bakery is located near the port, at the corner of a street. The storefront is unassuming and cheerful. Hyunsik paints the shutters and second story exterior every spring to keep it looking crisp and white.

The entrance of the bakery opens to the shop, where there are display cases and counters of sweets to sell. To the left of the cash register counter is a wooden door, which leads to a hallway which has doors to the rest of the house. The kitchen has a screen door, behind which is a cobblestone courtyard. Across this courtyard is an elevated one-room cottage. Soyoon shows it to Wonwoo as soon as they arrive at the bakery from the bus stop.

“This is your place,” says Soyoon, opening the wooden door. “It’ll take some cleaning, but we’ve got a new bed frame, a table and chairs, and a dresser for you to put your things away in.”

Hyunsik leaves Wonwoo’s luggage in the cottage, and the three return to the kitchen to have iced tea and bread with butter.

“Let’s go over some business,” says Soyoon importantly as she pours Wonwoo iced sun tea from a glass pitcher. “You’ve just turned nineteen. We’re not going to baby you, Wonwoo.”

“Thank God,” says Wonwoo, and he is almost surprised to hear Hyunsik chuckle softly into his glass.

“We’re going to offer you some mobility, because you’re an adult, and you know your limits - shit!” Soyoon has sliced the loaf of bread nearly diagonally. She plops the most severely mangled chunk on Hyunsik’s plate. “And then there’s the apprenticeship.”

“What does that entail?”

“We’re getting older, Wonwoo. My hands aren’t what they used to be, and we don’t know what to do with the bakery after we get too old to run it. You don’t have to do much in the beginning. Just minding the shop in the afternoons. It’s never too busy but I need the time off,” Soyoon cuts a new, more perfect slice of bread for Wonwoo. Hyunsik passes him the butter dish. “I’ll pay you by the hour, and you can earn some money for your own disposal. And you don’t have to make this decision now, but when you think you’re ready, we’d like to give it to you.”

“Give me the bakery?” He doesn’t think they understand how much that means to him. A chance to discover a passion again. A future when he’d lost sight of his own.

“But in return,” says Hyunsik in his deep voice, which Wonwoo isn’t used to hearing. “Be safe.”

Soyoon nods. “Time has a funny way of slipping by unnoticed in a place like Koriko. Don’t get into any trouble.”

Wonwoo swallows some bread he had been chewing. “Yes Auntie,” he replies.

“And Jeon Wonwoo, you closet romantic, don’t get too lost in any fanciful escapades with any of the girls,” Soyoon brandishes her knife in a way that’s supposed to be playful but ends up just being extremely threatening. “You’re only here for the summer.”

Wonwoo blinks at her nonchalantly, and says, “What about boys?” because girls have never really been his cup of tea.

Soyoon stares at him for a moment and then throws her head back with laughter. Hyunsik pats Wonwoo’s back.

“No escapades with any boys, either. Oh, sweetheart, I missed you. You crack me up.”

The rest of the afternoon is spent cleaning out Wonwoo’s room. Soyoon brings up a metal bucket and pours it over the wooden planks of the cottage’s floor, and Wonwoo helps her mop the dirt out of the room. Together they sweep cobwebs from the rafters and wipe smudges from the windows.

There’s a castiron kitchenette to the left of the cottage door, complete with an icebox, stove, and an oven. When Wonwoo asks Soyoon about it, she pauses from sweeping the dust from the ceiling and dabs at the moisture on her brow with her apron.

“This hasn’t been used in ages,” says Soyoon. She drags a finger over the surface of the stove. “Needs a good dusting.”

Wonwoo watches her rub the silt from her finger, and Soyoon gives him a skeptical look. “Do you even know how to cook?”

Heat rises up Wonwoo’s neck. “Yeah,” he splutters. “I can make...noodles, and grilled cheese...and...stuff like that.” 

Soyoon’s expression doesn’t shift, but she gestures to the water bucket and the rag over in the corner of the room, so Wonwoo gets to scrubbing.

They finish at around four o’clock, and Hyunsik makes them lemonade and sandwiches for a light dinner. They eat at Wonwoo’s small kitchen table in a comfortable silence, pleased at their productivity that afternoon.

When they’ve eaten, Wonwoo helps Hyunsik carry the plates and dishes from dinner down to the main house, and then he returns to Soyoon to help her put the sheets on his bed. She bats his hands away when he tries, with very little luck, to straighten the quilt.

He begins to unpack his trunk. He’s only got the necessities, the things he wears frequently back at home, and then some of the extra shirts and things. When he’s done moving his things into the dresser, the top right drawer is unused. He decides that he’ll have to find something to put in there.

“All done,” says Soyoon, clapping her hands from over by the bed. “Now let’s figure out how to light that stove.”

She sends Wonwoo out to the house for some matches. The sun hasn’t set yet, but the light has taken on a golden quality like it’s tired after working all day. Wonwoo takes a glass of water and the matches in each of his hands and returns to his room. He gulps down the water and wipes his chin with the back of his hand when the liquid drips down, leaving his glass in the sink and dashing back upstairs.

Soyoon seems to have crawled halfway into the oven looking for a way to light it. Wonwoo walks over and watches her, good-naturedly amused.

“Auntie,” He says, lightly tapping her on the waist. “I don’t think that’s how you light it.”

Soyoon pulls herself out of the oven to glare at him. “Well, do you have any other suggestions?”

Wonwoo looks thoughtfully at the kitchenette. It’s shiny - obsidian now that it’s been cleaned. There are flower designs in the metalwork. Under the oven and the stove top, there are two chambers, which have a latch. Wonwoo crouches down to unlatch the little door under the stove.

There’s a spider in there. It looks like it’s been dead for a while. “What about this door?”

“Yes! Yes, of course. How could I be so stupid? That’s where you build the fire, and it heats up the oven.” She peers into it, and pinches the spider between her index finger and thumb, and tosses it out the door of Wonwoo’s cottage. “The stove is the same story, just with his chamber. You take the lid off the burner and then you can cook your food.”

Soyoon looks proud of herself. Wonwoo claps for her, and she stops looking smug to give him a sharp glare, light dancing playfully in her eyes.

“All you’ve gotta do with the icebox is put ice in that bin down there and then plug it in, but there’s no point in doing that because there’s no ice in there.”

“Thanks, Auntie.”

Soyoon turns to look at him, her eyes impossibly soft. “I’m glad you’re here, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he goes for repeating “Thank you,” again.

“You’re going to have fun here,” Says Soyoon, stepping up to him to touch his shoulder. His mother would have made that sound like a command. When Soyoon says it, it’s reassuring. “You’re safe here. Hyunsik and I will get you anything you need if you ask for it.” Soyoon strokes his hair. “It might not feel like home yet, but it’ll get better. I promise.”

Wonwoo agrees with her that night as he lays alone in his bed for the first night of the summer. It doesn’t feel like home. He can hear waves crashing into a distant shore through his open window. It doesn’t feel like him, and that’s a good thing.

He closes his eyes, pulls the covers over his head, and falls into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

 

When Wonwoo wakes up the next morning, he momentarily forgets where he is and why the air smells so sweet. He turns, rolling to his other side, and remembers when he sees the kitchen.

He sits up slowly and swings his head over the side of his mattress. When he peeps out of his window, blinking blearily and squinting, the sun is just rising into the painted sky. He paws around for his glasses on his dresser and locates his round, silver-rimmed glasses, and when he puts them on m his morning haze disappears.

He dresses quickly and attempts to flatten his bedhead before a long, elastic stretch.

In his sock drawer, there is a pad of lined paper and a pencil. He pulls them out and sits at his table to make a list. He writes:

  * _tea_
  * _bread_
  * _milk_
  * _eggs_
  * _noodles_
  * _matches_
  * _fruit_
  * _pancake mix_
  * _cheese_



When he realizes he doesn’t have anything to cook with, he worries for his wallet for a second before writing:

  * _tools that go in a kitchen_



 He tears the list from the pad and folds it sloppily, shoving it in his pocket on his way out the door.

The bakery’s industrialized kitchen, separate from the main house, already has smoke billowing from the smokestacks. Hyunsik is probably in there, minding the huge pans of bread loaves.

Evidently, the front store is open for business. A clock on the wall states that it’s seven fifteen. Wonwoo locates a hunk of bread in the bread box in the kitchen and eats it plain. When his throat dries out, he gets himself a glass of water.

When Wonwoo drinks the liquid and goes to place his glass in the sink, Soyoon bursts in. Her dress today is a warm brown. There’s a clean white apron over it. “Good morning, Wonwoo,” She says briskly. “I was just about to rouse you. I know I said you’d work in the afternoons, but I need some help this morning in the shop. You can have the afternoon off, I just need you to mind the store while I do some cakes.”

“Okay,” says Wonwoo, a little disoriented as Soyoon has wrapped her slender hand around his wrist and has begun to pull him out to the front store.

The store is sweet and light with glass jars and cases and charmingly old-fashioned rose-colored wallpaper. The cash register is old looking, too. Soyoon is right, though. A small line has formed At the front stands a sharp looking woman with a bird-like demeanor and artificially auburn hair and three equally as pointy children gripping her skirt. She looks like she’d like to leave as soon as possible.

Soyoon throws an apron over his neck and places a kiss on his right cheek. “Good luck,” She says and disappears to her cakes.

Wonwoo glances at the cash register, thoroughly overwhelmed, and tries to speak brightly to the woman. “Good morning, ma’am,” He says, and the pointy woman steps closer to the counter. Her children line up too, with two on one side and one on the other. They stare at him. A small boy sniffs, - he has a drippy nose, and Wonwoo tries not to wince. “What can I do for you today?”

She sets a basket around the counter. “Three loaves of the white,” she says expectantly, and without any common polite additions.

Behind Wonwoo, there are shelves stocked with all the bakery’s fresh breads. With a cloth, he retrieves the bread and sets them in the basket. She sign beside the loaves says they’re each three hundred won.

Wonwoo is about to tell her her total and try to figure out how to ring her up when she says “And you’re Soyoon’s nephew, huh?” Her voice is as sharp as the rest of her.

“Yeah,” says Wonwoo, feeling a little stupid for some reason.

“You’ve got the same eyes,” she says like someone should give her a prize. Her daughter, on her left, has begun to rifle through the chocolate bars displayed on the counter. “Stop that,” her mother scolds, and her daughter regretfully puts her hands to her sides. “The eyes, that’s how I knew.”

Wonwoo has finally punched the three loaves of bread into the cash register. “That’s three-hundred won,” he says, and when the receipt prints, he hands her a pen and slides them over. “On this line, thank you, and yeah. The eyes run in the family.”

The woman hands the pen and receipt back to him with a jabbing motion, She gazes over the rest of his face, and then his shoulders briefly as she sorts out her change and hands the coins to Wonwoo in perfect change.

“Thank you, ma’am,” says Wonwoo, feeling a little intimidated. He bows slightly. The children have not stopped watching him intently.

“Welcome to Koriko,” she says decidedly like Wonwoo has passed some sort of job interview. “Come along, children.” And then they’re gone.

Wonwoo helps a lot of people that morning. Among them are a squat little man, bald on top with a bushy beard, who seems very kind until he begins to pester Wonwoo about the girls in Seoul (“They’re...neat,” says Wonwoo, not sure that he wants to share that it’s really never been girls for him, so he’s never looked), a number of old women who haven’t lost their taste for sweets, and several middle-aged mothers with children.

What Wonwoo learns that morning is that everyone in Koriko knows everything about everyone else. No one can take cover under the shield of anonymity like in Seoul. So everyone tries a little harder, because of the intense communal awareness. It scares Wonwoo a little, that he can’t be nobody. He’s got to always be the best version of himself that he can possibly be. The thought makes him tired.

Still, he likes the work and is intrigued by the people. When Soyeon returns around eleven o’clock and the store is less busy, he even feels a little disappointed. She drops an envelope of cash into his hand and an empty canvas bag.

“Go to the corner store,” she says simply.

“What should I get?”

“What do you need?” returns Soyoon, and pushes him out of the door.

The air is warm, but there’s a cool breeze coming in from the direction of the sea. Wonwoo has no idea which corner the corner store is on, but he guesses that that’s Soyoon’s plan to get him out of the house a little. He’s open to exploration and takes a right after thinking it over a bit.

It seems to be a market day. There are many street vendors along the sidewalks, selling food and crafts like embroidered wall hangings and bracelets and stuffed dolls. One stand is run by an old lady selling small potted plants. He buys three, each with different colored flowers, yellow, red, violet, and blue. The lady seems to be taken with him and insists he also take a pale pink one for free. She puts the little pots in a carrier for him, and Wonwoo smiles and bows in thanks.

He’s starting to get hungry again, so he buys a pork bun from another vendor and munches it as he walks the cobblestone streets. He hasn’t come across the store, and he wants to put the plants in his room before he sets out again, so he turns around and heads home.

He slips through the bakery and up to hi room without Soyoon or Hyunsik noticing his return. When he enters, he puts the flowerpots on the windowsill closets to the kitchenette. It brightens the room considerably.

He’s just about to pick up his pork bun and leave again when he hears a noise from the window across the room, which looks out over the garden wall.

He inches closer to inspect it. He doesn’t see anything, so he lifts the sash and pokes his head out. Sitting to the left, on the garden wall, is a tiny grey cat.

They stare at each other for a moment.

“Hi there,” says Wonwoo.

“Mew,” says the cat.

Wonwoo’s craning his neck a little, so he pulls himself back inside.

He’s always liked cats. A lot. And this cat seems friendly. The pork bun on the table stares at him, and Wonwoo has an idea that maybe goes against his better judgment considering it’s not always good to feed random animals but he’s nineteen and he wants to be friends with this cat, so he tears off a bit of bread from the bun and reaches through the window to set it on the sill.

He doesn’t have to wait long. The cat pads over to it and sniffs it almost immediately after Wonwoo sets it down and retracts his hand. Wonwoo is sudden;y thankful to the pork bun vendor.

But the cat doesn’t eat the bit of bread. Instead, it bats it away with its right paw and watches it fall off the wall. A seagull dives to retrieve it.

“Hey,” says Wonwoo. “Don’t do that. I’m trying to feed you, not the gulls.”

The cat resituates itself to sit staring into Wonwoo’s eyes, perfectly framed by the window. It blinks slowly, and lets out another “Mew.”

Wonwoo blinks slowly back at it. “Mew,” he says back.

The cat’s ears twitch, and its whiskers fan forward. Wonwoo reaches out for it with the hand that isn’t holding the pork bun, and the cat surges forward, pushing its head into Wonwoo’s palm. Wonwoo’s chest expands with warmth like a hot air balloon.

The cat, who is now standing on the windowsill, stops headbutting WOnwoo’s hand to prod its nose into the filling of the bun and munches on a mouthful.

“That’s what you like then,” hums Wonwoo, and watches the cat as it chews. “Where do you come from, anyway?”

The cat looks at Wonwoo briefly but doesn’t offer an answer. Wonwoo feels like an idiot for having expected one.

Almost as soon as it came, the cat finishes the meat, turns around itself in a circle a few times, and stalks off down the wall away from Wonwoo and disappears out of sight with a leap. Wonwoo watches it go and then sets out into the town again, mentally adding cat food to the list in his pocket.

When he gets onto the street again, he takes a left and turns the corner. The garden wall stands high, but after the bakery property line ends, it tapers off to more little shops. There’s an antique store which displays lots of gaudy jewelry, an ice cream parlor, and a larger store fading out to a small square plaza, which Wonwoo decides must be the corner store.

Two children nearly run Wonwoo over on their way out as he enters. He briefly counts the money Soyoon had given him and unfurls the crumpled list from his pocket. There aren’t too many people in the store.

One aisle seems to have cheap kitchen supplies stocked, so he pulls a cart from a row of them and pushes it down the aisle. When Wonwoo gets close enough to read the prices, he lets out a low whistle. Living on your own is expensive.

Still, he stocks up on food and tools for his kitchen, and when he feels successful, he pushed over to the check out counter.

A boy who appears to be about seventeen stands at the register, chewing bubblegum. His nameplate reads “Chan.”

“Hi,” says Chan after a huge bubble pops all over his lips.

“Hello,” says Wonwoo, trying not to smirk at Chan, who is trying to wipe the gum off his face. When he’s finished, Chan begins to scan Wonwoo’s items, and Wonwoo sets Soyoon’s canvas tote on the counter.

“I haven’t seen you around here, are you off the boats?” asks Chan after he’s told Wonwoo the total of his shopping.

“No, I’m from Seoul,” he says. “I’m from Seoul,” he says. “I’m living with my aunt and uncle. Here,” he holds the money out for Chan to take.

Chan makes an excited noise as he takes the paper notes Wonwoo offers him. “Oh,” he says. “Are you the Kang’s nephew?”

“Yeah,” nods Wonwoo as Chan puts the cold items in the canvas bag and the rest in non-descript paper bags. “Kang Soyoon is my aunt.”

Chan nods and smiles brightly at him. “Now I totally see it. The eyes.”

Wonwoo represses a snort. “I get that a lot.”

Chan throws his head back in an explosive laugh. “You’re funny, Wonwoo. I’ll see you around.” Wonwoo bids him thanks and goodbye, and heads for the bakery again. He sets his bags in his room, plugs in the icebox, and lugs a bucket of ice up the stairs to dump in the tray at the bottom of the icebox.

Once he’s done getting the icebox to chill, he puts away his groceries and returns to the bakery. When he walks into the storefront, Soyoon is bent over the counter, her elbows propping her up. Chatting to a man around Wonwoo’s age. He has wide shoulders, and his plain blue button-down is pulled attractively across what must be a muscled chest. But even though his body is chiseled, his face is round and boyish, and his brown eyes are soft and warm.

Soyoon turns to him when she notices the man’s eyes shift to Wonwoo. “Oh, good. I was just about to go get you. Come meet Mingyu, our favorite regular.” She pushes herself up from her relaxed position and begins to straighten the displays.

“Kim Mingyu,” says Mingyu in a voice raspy but rich and smooth like caramel. He holds out his hand when Wonwoo comes close enough.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” replies Wonwoo, and shakes it. The gesture is warm and the hand is solid. “I’m Soyoon’s nephew.”

“I can tell,” says Mingyu, and the corners of his lips turn u[ in a small smile. His eyes crinkle slightly.

“The eyes,” guesses Soyoon from where she has been restocking a glass jar with toffees. Wonwoo stifles a laugh.

“No,” Mingyu gives a full grin at that, and Wonwoo finds that his teeth are sharp and slightly crooked. “It’s the nose. But your eyes are similar, too.”

Soyoon giggles and Wonwoo tries not to appear too surprised, giving Mingyu an awkward, closed mouth smile.

“Where’s Minseo today?” asks Soyoon, and Mingyu’s attention shifts to Wonwoo’s aunt.

“It’s Saturday,” says Mingyu. “Soomi doesn’t have work today, so she’s taking her.”

Wonwoo doesn’t have a clue about what they’re talking about, so his eyes trace the lines of Mingyu’s profile. He tunes everything out for a moment, but then Mingyu turns to him and he tears his eyes away.

“It’s time for me to go,” says Mingyu, reaching for a brown paper bag on the counter. “If you need anyone to show you around, Wonwoo, I’d be happy to give you a tour.”

He bows a farewell to Soyoon and grins at Wonwoo again. When he leaves the shop, the air turns strangely quiet.

“Nice kid,” says Soyoon, finishing her fussing over the displays. “Minseo’s a toddler. Her mother Soomi runs the hat shop down the street and can’t always mind her, and her father’s a crew member on one of the big ships, so he’s gone for months at a time. He’s really helped her a lot.

To Wonwoo, Mingyu seems like he’d be popular with everyone - the kind of person who’s generous without asking for anything in return, outgoing, and magnetic in a way where he’s well-liked. Wonwoo thinks about his gentle smile, and wonder about taking up Mingyu’s offer.

“He seems nice,” he says simply, understating his thoughts significantly.

“He’d be good for you, Wonwoo,” Soyoon’s voice is soft. “Ask him for that tour.”

“Maybe I will,” answers Wonwoo truthfully.

Another customer walks through the door, and Soyoon turns her attention away from Wonwoo, so he slips by her and through the rest of the house to his room. When he enters he removes his shoes and checks to see if the icebox is cool enough for his cold groceries. It is, so he unloads his shopping bags.

He sits cross-legged on his bed and stares out at the room - at his plants by the window and the pans hanging from the ceiling by the kitchenette, and feels sort of satisfied with himself. When he’s finished gloating to the rest of the room, he gazes out of the window where he had met the little grey cat at the afternoon sun.

Koriko doesn’t feel like home yet, but it’s getting closer. Wonwoo feels like he can settle in, adhere to a routine. He’s happy here, happier than he had been in Seoul. He likes the simplicity, the romance, the old-fashioned charm that makes the town remind him so much of books he’d read in years past. He feels like he can breathe, and that’s all he needs for the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr: [mmerakis](https://mmerakis.tumblr.com/)  
> My twitter: [m_merakis](https://twitter.com/m_merakis)


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